


The Girl with the Hammer Tattoo

by GreenVelvetCurtains



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Humor, Karaoke, Romance, drunken tattooing, freakouts and regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenVelvetCurtains/pseuds/GreenVelvetCurtains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends don't let friends drink and ink. Except when sometimes they do... Jane and Darcy visit Tattoos Ink after a night out. When Thor returns, confusion and karaoke ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drink

It had been stormy all evening. Thunder rolled mercilessly across the late afternoon sky, the clouds punctuated by occasional flashes of lightning. As the squall gathered Jane couldn't help but hope that this time it would be him.

It wasn't. It was never him.

And when one more failure to add to the seemingly endless string of recent disappointments deflated her confidence even further, she had no other option but to plant herself firmly on a local bar stool for the night. Was it possible they were actually going backwards in their search for a route to Thor? It certainly felt that way. Right now there was only one apparent solution left to her problems, and that was alcohol. Lots of it.

"What if he never comes back?" she moaned to Darcy, leaning heavily against her rather more sober colleague.

God, not again. "He will Jane," she assured for what must have been the third time tonight. "He promised."

"Yeah but wha' if he doesn't?" Darcy rolled her eyes. What had been mild irritation a half hour earlier was bordering on full-blown exasperation now. This was getting old, fast. "I mean, am I wasting my time looking? What if he changed his mind? He doesn't want me anymore. Or he's dead. That's it! He got killed in a fight and now he's dead and he's never coming back."

"He can't be dead Jane," Darcy pointed out. "He's immortal."

"Yeah, so how's that gonna work in a relationship?" She screwed one unfocussed eye shut and peered intently into the mystery pink liquid in her glass. "He'll live forever while I'll get old and wrinkly until he's not attracted to me anymore."

"What happened to finding a way to another world for science's sake?" Darcy raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Or are we doing this all for a guy?

"Of course not," Jane mumbled dejectedly. "But he's my carrot, Darce! And if he isn't dangling within reach then what's the point. Let's face it, we're never gonna create an Einstein-Rosenberg-"

"Bridge."

"-Thor's not coming back for me and I'm doomed to be alone for all eternity." She slumped forward onto the bar in a heap.

"Right, 'cause you're fundamentally unlovable to anyone besides otherworldly thunder gods," Darcy snarked. "You've said it yourself Jane, maybe time moves differently there and he's only been home for like ten minutes. That could explain the whole lives forever thing, right?" Maybe. "Or something important came up and he's just busy."

"Yeah some beautiful blonde Asgardian Amazon came up," she spat. "You know, if he ever does bother to show his face here again, I think I'm gonna slap it."

"Ok Jane, enough with the melodrama! And when you start mixing your mythologies, it's time to lay off the booze." Darcy reached over and removed the empty glass from her friend's hand to the other side of the bar and out of her reach. "What happened to your undying love for the guy anyway?"

"Pfffft!" she scoffed. "He doesn't deserve it. Men, the universe over, are all the same."

Jane leaned across and retrieved her tumbler. "This drink," she addressed the bartender, rattling the booze-less rocks at him. "I like it. Another!"

"No she won't," Darcy cut in decisively as Jane snorted at her own little joke. Getting to her feet, she slapped a few bills on the bar and slung her bag over her shoulder. "We're leaving."

oOo

They exited the bar and tottered down the road together, hanging onto each other.

The lab was as good a crash pad for the night as anywhere. There was a perfectly serviceable foldout couch to sleep on, and it was marginally closer and more spacious than Jane's trailer. Darcy had no intention of carrying either of them an inch further than was absolutely necessary.

"Jane, you're gonna need to stand up. You might be a lightweight in the booze department," had she even had more than 3 drinks? "but you're still really heavy."

"I didn't eat lunch." Well that explained half of it. Jane removed her unwelcome weight from her friend's shoulder and tested her equilibrium unsupported. Her legs consented to hold her up.

"See, not drunk at all." She twirled slowly to prove her point, before wobbling precariously and lurching sideways.

"If you say so."

A few yards further up the road Jane stopped abruptly and spun around, a look of wild excitement in her face. "I just thought of something we haven't tried yet!"

"Don't make me taser you," Darcy warned. The last thing she could stomach right now was drunken nonsense science talk.

Instead and without further explanation Jane flung her arms wide, threw back her head and shouted at the top of her lungs up at the night sky.

Darcy ducked involuntarily at the sudden outburst, her hands flying to her head to protect against the surprise attack. Definitely not what she had been expecting.

"Come on," Jane cried, gesticulating wildly. "Help me!"

"Oh I think you're loud enough all by yourself."

The street was otherwise deserted and Darcy only hoped that anyone within earshot had their tv volume turned up enough so as not to be forced to hear. This was embarrassing.

"Heimdall," her friend yelled again, "open the Bifrost!"

Lightning flashed across the heavens and seconds later thunder rumbled tantalisingly in reply. "Oh my god, Darcy! It's working," she grabbed her sleeve, shaking fiercely as she kept her gaze fixed on the skies. "It's working!"

Except it didn't work. No funnel materialised, no golden-haired god emerged from a cloud of dust striding purposefully towards her to sweep her up in his arms. And as that knowledge became certain, Jane, who had been laughing at her own temerity, collapsed down onto the nearest available step and dissolved into tears.

oOo

"This is a bad plan, Jane."

"No it's not. You're coming and we're doing this."

"You're kinda drunk," cautioned Darcy. "And friends don't let friends drink and ink."

"I may not be entirely sober, but I'm enough in control of my faculties to make a rational decision." She stumbled, pitching forward and hand-walked up the last couple of steps.

"If you say so," muttered Darcy dubiously following her into the brightly lit shop at the top of the metal staircase.

"I want a tattoo," Jane stated to the man sitting behind the counter.

"Well then you've come to the right place." He dog-eared a corner of the comic book he was reading and set it down. "What did you have in mind?"

She dug her phone out of her back pocket, fiddled for a few moments before turning the screen towards the guy. "There. That's what I want."

He leaned forward and peered critically at the image before looking back up at her with raised brows. "Really?"

"Yes really." Asshole.

"You know what they say, right?" Two pairs of eyes stared blankly back. "A tattoo's for life. Not just for Christmas."

"That's a dog."

"Well yeah, but it's appropriate here too." He guffawed a little at his own joke then stopped when he got no response from his patrons. Yeesh, tough crowd. He ran his hand awkwardly through his shock of black hair and changed tack.

"No problem. But might I suggest something a little less stylised? Like maybe," he pulled his keyboard closer and tapped his fingers across it for a few moments before turning the computer screen in their direction, "one of these?

"Ooh, pretty," her friend enthused.

"No." Jane pushed the offensive representation away and shook her phone at him. "This. The Asgardian original. Not some cheap Celtic or Norse imitation. Those look like anchors, not hammers."

"Maybe, but here, look at the intricate scrollwork. It's almost identical to the design running down the sides of the real thing." He seemed genuinely excited as he took the image she'd been waving at him, zoomed it in and held it up to indicate the similarity. "See? What do you think?"

Jane snatched her cell back, defensively clutching it to her chest.

"No touching the phone, Sparky," warned Darcy before poking at a particular drawing. "I like that one."

"I could customise a design for you if you like," he offered as he picked up an aerosol of screen cleaner, spritzed twice and polished away the fingerprints. "Something more hammer-like but maybe a little less… shall we say 'prosaic', than a rectangle with a stick coming out the centre base."

"Listen," Jane grabbed his sweater and pulled him forward to scrutinise his name tag, "Kyle. This is what I want. Not something else. This. Can you do it or not?"

He carefully removed her hand, smoothed down the front of his pullover and cleared his throat. "Yes ma'am."

"Good," she nodded her head decisively. "Thank you."

Kyle pulled his lips into a nervous half-smile that vanished more quickly than it had threatened. He retrieved a sheet of paper from below the counter and began sketching a design. Jane gave direction as it took shape - shorter there, more twirly bits down the sides - until she was satisfied with the result.

Perfect.

"Do you want the valknut?" She stared blankly. "The three interlocking triangles that appeared on the side of the hammer a few times before Thor reclaimed it. Or more accurately, I suppose, before it reclaimed him."

Jane narrowed her eyes. Was this guy privy to classified government information? Before she could grill him further his fingers were clicking across the keys. He turned the screen back to face her, displaying Mjolnir imbedded in rock bearing the aforementioned symbol on its side. Ah, internet. No doubt the mooks at Strategic Homeland Interference and Eavesdropping whatever-they-were-called would be thrilled.

"Ok, technically it's more of an interlaced triquetra than it is a valknut, but presumably the meaning is-" he trailed off and withered beneath her disinterested gaze.

"It's not normally there, so I don't want it." The symbol might mean anything, but given the circumstances Jane figured it was quite possibly the Asgardian equivalent of a Magic 8-Ball's 'ask again later'. That hardly seemed appropriate.

"Fair enough," he conceded.

Kyle added a few finishing touches to the sketch before looking back up at her expectantly. "Right, where d'you want it?"

"Where?" She questioned stupidly. Where? Good point. Jane hadn't even thought that far ahead. Where?

She looked over to Darcy for advice. Her friend was flipping casually through one of the folders lying on the counter, twirling a lock of hair around her finger and humming along tunelessly to the song playing softly in the background.

"Don't look at me," she warned, eyes never leaving the pages she was perusing, and effectively cutting Jane's appeal for help off at the knees. "It's is your decision. I'm not letting you blame this on me in the morning."

She thought as quickly as a mind fogged by peculiar pink drink could manage. This was important. What was a good place for hammer-shaped body art?

Wrist, foot, ankle? Too many bones or tendons there. Jane imagined that might hurt and so ruled it out. Bicep? Too masculine. Shoulder maybe, or was that, like, so last century? Lower back? Nape? Rib cage beside her hammering heart? Corny.

The bright fluorescent lights overhead were starting to make her temples throb.

Butt maybe? Boob? She cast her eyes down at her chest.

"When you're 80 and you're tucking them into your skirt that's not gonna be a good look," Darcy chimed in, as if reading her mind. "Plus," she jerked her chin at the artist and whispered a little too loudly for him not to hear, "he's the one who'll be inking it.

That effectively ruled out anywhere more intimate too. Definitely not with creepy Kyle over there doing the artwork.

"Hey, aren't you the dude from the pet store?" asked Darcy.

Jane closed her eyes, tuning them out, took a deep cleansing breath and made her decision.

"Ok, I'm ready. Let's do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fyi, Tattoos Ink is a real place. You can see the sign for it through one of the windows of their lab if you're not too distracted by a shirtless Hemsworth.


	2. Ink

Jane struggled towards consciousness an indeterminate amount of time later. Her mouth felt like a sandpit of New Mexico desert and a herd of migrating buffalo was thundering its way through her head. She reached out blindly for her water glass, intent on ungluing her tongue from her palate but made contact with nothing but fresh air. Ok, who moved the bedside table?

She cracked open a bleary eye to discover she wasn't at home but rather lying on the lumpy futon in the lab.

A portion of blanket was thrown haphazardly over her bare legs with the majority concealing all but the boots of the person curled next to her. Cover hog. Suddenly her brain flashed on an image of the clerk from the pet store. Jane's stomach did a brief somersault before she set that ridiculous notion aside. No way she would ever get drunk enough to bring home some random weirdo like him. The shape hidden beneath the blanket stretched in its sleep and kicked out a leg in her direction. A female, if decidedly unfeminine, grunt followed confirming the legs were Darcy's.

Jane dragged her left arm upwards and peeped at her watch. Around ten to seven. That wasn't so bad. No wait, her vision cleared and her brain disobligingly swapped the hands around. Make that twenty five to ten. Jane moaned, softly so as not to aggravate the cattle in her head. It was Saturday, right? Oh please let it be weekend. She was late and in no condition to have to work, regardless of the fact that she was already there.

She let her eyes fall shut as her mind struggled to unjumble the muddle of events of the night before. Excessive alcohol consumption appeared to be the defining feature. At least by her standards anyway. What had she been thinking looking for a solution to her problems beneath her pink drenched ice cubes? Stupid! No-one ever found anything useful at the bottom of a glass.

She had a vague recollection of stumbling down the main street, arm around Darcy for support. There was laughter - if she could remember the joke now, she was sure it wouldn't be even remotely funny - followed by tears. And, oh dear, shouting 'Heimdall, open the bifrost!' up at the black night sky. That exercise, unsurprisingly, proved fruitless - it might have helped if they were actually at the bifrost site - and Jane cringed at the memory. But while she doubted the outcome would have been different, she decided to file that thought away for future cases of drunken overconfidence.

Thank goodness Friday wasn't karaoke night at the bar or her humiliation would have been complete.

And then there he was again. Creepy Kyle. Except now he wasn't only Pet Palace Kyle, he was also Kyle Von D from Tattoos Ink.

No way. Her eyes flashed wide open at the alarming thought then blinked involuntarily shut once more to fend off the bright daylight in room. People who live in glass houses should invest in curtains if they're gonna get drunk on a Friday night.

Jane thought hard, trying to clear her mind. Surely she wouldn't have- Had she?

She tried to put aside the throb in her skull and the ubiquitous body ache to assess if anything in particular hurt. The quick inventory did indeed flag up a pain uncharacteristic of standard hangover conditions. Oh not good. She was scared to look. Her fingers snuck carefully down her side to the site of the culprit and encountered a covering. Bad to worse, her suspicions were rapidly being confirmed.

Maybe she'd fallen down last night and hurt herself. She didn't remember a trip to the hospital but it was possible Darcy had gotten the first aid kit out and patched her up. It could have happened that way. Right?

She knew it was wishful thinking. Jane pushed herself upright as quickly as her protesting body would allow - she'd be kneeling on the bathroom floor worshiping the porcelain god if she moved too fast - and swung her legs down til her feet hit the cool laminate wood flooring.

Where the hell were her jeans? She cast her eyes around the large room and failed to locate them. Had she abandoned her clothes in that place along with her senses and staggered home, albeit only over the road, in her underwear? No, she bent down and peered under the bed, locating them on the floor. Urgh, not good for the pickled brain. The pressure behind her eyes made her see stars.

Jane managed to drag the denims as far as her thighs before realising the likely reason she wasn't wearing them. She wriggled the rest of the way into them as carefully as possible, leaving the zipper undone and the top folded over so as not to touch the affected area.

As she made her way to the bathroom, she glanced out the window across the sunlit street. The long red arrow pointing up the staircase taunted her.

Why the hell did a two-bit town like Puente Antiguo have a damn tattoo parlour anyway? Surely a population of 2175 people wouldn't generate much business? Unless of course, like her, they all drank too much and Dutch courage steered them there. She supposed it wasn't really warranted, which was why it was run by the guy who also manned the Pet Palace and was only open 3 evenings a week. Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. Curse the fact the lights were on last night.

More importantly, why hadn't it been destroyed by that giant metal monster instead of all the nice places. Jane really missed Izzy's.

She approached the full-length bathroom mirror tentatively, turned sideways and pulled up her shirt tucking it into her bra to keep it out the way. Time to face the music. There was no point in postponing the inevitable, the outcome would remain the same so she may as well get it over with. Rip the Bandaid, so to speak.

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest in frightened anticipation. The gauze stuck to her back of her right hip was unmistakably concealing a tattoo. Shit. No more lowrise jeans for me. She picked at the corner of the bandage til it came away from her skin and gently peeled it back.

No. Way.

She blinked and squinted trying to clear her vision and get a better look, half hoping she was still experiencing the after-effects of last night's binge and it might magically disappear. Relax Jane, it's just a tattoo. Breathe. She closed her eyes inhaling deeply. It was still there when she opened them.

Shit.

Mjolnir. There was no mistaking it. Asgardian replica Mjolnir too, not a pretty poetic Midgardian version. What the hell kind of design for a tattoo was that?

A block with a stick. Shit!

She was gonna sue him. That mouth-breather. That- that feckless little fuck who probably still lived in his parents' basement.

"Darcyyyyy!"

"Shhh, not so loud," followed a soft moan.

Jane stalked over and yanked the covers off her friend before returning to stand in front of the mirror. "Get up."

"Urgh who spiked the punch?" grumbled Darcy dragging herself off the bed. "And why are there no blinds in this place? It's insanely bright." She pushed passed Jane into the bathroom, filled a glass with water and gulped it down.

"Hello-o?"

"What?"

Jane pointed at the offending image.

Darcy glanced at the artwork and shrugged. "It's Mjolnir."

"I can see that!" she responded on the verge of desperation, her voice several notes higher than usual.

"You got hammered and, well, hammered. You got to appreciate the irony."

"I really don't."

"Aw, does it hurt? Ith it a little bit thor?

Jane shot her a death glare. "Don't you dare joke about this. I'm branded, like a cow. Or some crazed teenage fangirl. It's a trampstamp." She threw up her hands in disbelief. "I have a trampstamp."

"Technically it needs to be over your butt crack to qualify as that."

"So not helping!" Jane snapped. "How could you let me do this?"

Darcy held up her hands in defence displaying a similarly bandaged right wrist.

"Aargh!" One glass of wine and maybe three of that pink poison had done this to her. Stupid, wretched alcohol. Stupid little paper umbrellas. Dammit! She was never drinking again.

And she was so gonna sue that little twerp for taking advantage of her in her weakened state. For all his worldly goods. Which probably amounted to a '79 Ford Pinto, an assortment of questionable sweaters and his Playboy collection. Dammit!

Oh why couldn't she just have bought herself a pendant or a nice pair of earrings! People peddled all kinds of things on the net, she was positive she could have found something appropriate. But noooo, she had to go the whole hog and get it needled into her skin for all eternity. An immovable reminder of an immovable object. Definitely not appropriate.

"You so need to go taser that guy."

"Hey you can hardly blame him, Jane. You weren't the one on the wrong end of the threats." Darcy'd never have figured her for a belligerent drunk. "Plus I'm pretty certain policy states that if you're sober enough to make it up the stairs, you're sober enough to get inked. Just breathe, it's hardly the end of the world."

"It's a nightmare!"

"And likely the surest way to guarantee Thor's return."

Jane's eyes flashed to hers, a flicker of hope in her face as she waited for the explanation. "You should see this as a solution to your problems. Think about it. With that thing stamped on your Asgard-

"Hip!"

"-Thor's guaranteed to come back. No question about it." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "And he's guaranteed to see you naked."

Jane flopped back down onto the makeshift bed, her face buried in the pillow and groaned.

"I like it," Darcy pronounced, eyeing the tattoo critically. "Plus it's dialled down your geek factor a few clicks. And to put it in perspective, you could have had his entire face tattooed on your ass."

Yes, thank God for small mercies.

She pulled Jane back to her feet and stood her side on to the mirror. "I mean for what it is, Kyle did a pretty awesome job. It might look better with the trifecta thingy in the middle, but you can always add that later when you find out what it means."

The design was on the angle with the shaft pointing down and inwards. It was expertly crafted, right down to the delicate loop at the end of the leather-bound handle. In fact the shading and fine detailing on the hammer head were quite remarkable. And considering she'd seem the real thing, remarkably accurate as well.

Darcy was right. Creepy Kyle had rendered a faithful representation and despite Jane's frightening insistence, or perhaps because of it, done excellent work. And best of all the tattoo was relatively small. No more than an inch and a half across and only a little more in length.

"Meltdown over?" asked Darcy.

Jane shrugged lightly in reply. Maybe having it there wouldn't be so bad after all. "So what did you get?"

"Oh it's just a little lightening bolt," she replied dismissively, attempting to deflect Jane's interest.

"You a Thor fan too, Darcy? Or is it Harry Potter? Let's see." Jane broke out into a genuine grin as her friend revealed the high voltage warning symbol tattooed on her wrist. "Ok now I don't feel nearly so bad! You going to get the triangle surround coloured in yellow, taser girl?"

"I'd have done it last night except Kyle didn't like you drooling all over his counter so I brought you home instead," she sniped as she covered her design back up. "Plus I think he found the snoring a bit distracting." Jane wasn't entirely sure she was teasing and decided not to find out.

Instead she turned her attention back to her own ill advised artwork, poking at it gently to test her pain threshold. "What if he hates it?"

"You got his weapon permanently etched into your skin, Jane. The symbol of his power. What guy in the history of all guys ever wouldn't find that a major turn on?"

That was probably true she had to concede. And if he did hate it or he never saw it or they broke whatever it was they had off, she could just get it lasered away. In five to fifteen easy sessions for plenty of money and even more discomfort she could have it removed.

Jane turned back to the mirror to admire at it further, marvelling at the accuracy of the representation when - oh god - was that blue ink peeking out over the top of her jeans on her other hip? No no no! She spun 180 degrees so her left side was reflected, then let out a high pitched wail as she pushed her clothing lower to reveal the words.

I heart Thor.

You have got to be kidding me! Jane felt light headed. Even the 'o' in his name was heart-shaped.

Wait, her sluggish brain cautioned, this one doesn't hurt.

She stuck her finger in her mouth then rubbed it across the words furiously, causing them to smudge. Thank the lord, not permanent yet, it was just the stencil. She must have chickened out or passed out or been sent away to reconsider. God bless Creepy Kyle if it was his decision. Maybe she wouldn't sue him just yet. Jane stepped nearer to the mirror to examine the script more closely and realised the somewhat inexpertly inscribed words were in fact written in blue ballpoint pen.

She turned on Darcy who had conveniently absented herself and was sitting on the bed studying her nails. "Was this you?"

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice," she smirked.

"I should fire you for this."

"Hey, you can't expect me carry someone home and get them out of their jeans without the promise of a good time to follow. And quite honestly Jane," she smiled wider and quirked her eyebrows, "I had a good time."

Jane glared at her for a moment before letting it go in relief. In the grand scheme of the morning, this hardly qualified as a crisis. "So am I allowed to shower with this thing? Do I have to put anything on it? What's the protocol?"

Darcy fished a tattoo aftercare pamphlet from her bag and passed it over. Jane took it from her and plonked herself down on the bed, briefly flipping through the brochure.

Wash but don't soak. Pat don't rub. Slap don't scratch. No sunbathing.

A knock sounded against the glass window and looking up over her friend's shoulder Darcy exclaimed excitedly, "Oh my god, it's Thor!"

Jane squawked, sliding quickly and unceremoniously onto the floor with a thud, and scrabbled for the blanket to pull it down from the bed and cover herself. Not now. Oh please not now. Any other time but now!

Darcy pulled back the covers to reveal her friend's dishevelled head and grinned at her. "Psych!"

Jane struggled to sit up, relief mixed with irritation and a pang of disappointment as she saw Erik standing at the door. "That was cruel, Darcy!" Not to mention painful.

"And entirely too easy," she laughed, successfully dodging the pillow flung hotly after her as she went to let Erik in.


	3. Misthink

For the brilliant scientist she was, Jane Foster had an appalling memory. It was evident however, from some of the television Thor'd had the dubious pleasure of watching since his return, that many other earthlings of the scientific persuasion were equally scatterbrained. She left the iron plugged in, forgot important meetings, or had to rush out to buy cat food. Apparently Mr Whiskers was an outside animal, for Thor had never once laid eyes on the elusive little beast.

Just yesterday they'd been enjoying a very pleasant evening canoodling on Jane's too small bed when she'd suddenly recalled a great aunt's birthday and hurriedly excused herself to make a phone call. Leaving an decidedly unsatisfied boyfriend in her wake. It happened rather more often than Thor liked to admit.

He hadn't expected her to fall into his bed - or he into hers - the moment they were reunited. After all they really didn't know each other all that well, and he wanted to afford Jane that opportunity without lumbering her with the expectation of something more.

He'd hoped that maybe one day - in fact he'd assumed they would, eventually - but they progressed no further than kissing and touching before she put on the brakes. And if it weren't distant relatives or petcare interrupting their romance, it was Jane's alarming propensity for slapping his hand away.

They'd taken it slowly at first, but things had been heating up very nicely in recent days. She slithered over him, tested his muscles and purred in his ears, but if he ever strayed below her waist to cup her bottom, Jane got, well, twitchy. Skittish even. She said she was simply ticklish and that she preferred his hands elsewhere - to her breasts he was given free rein - but he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't something more to it than that.

At times he could make her forget herself in a haze of passion - Thor prided himself on his skills in that arena - until suddenly she appeared to come to her senses and throw a bucket of cold water on the situation by swatting him away and hurriedly retreating. Perhaps it was some sort of tic she was helpless to control.

To begin with he honestly hadn't minded her slightly odd behaviour, but it was becoming an ever increasing source of frustration. Not that Thor didn't respect her boundaries and wishes. He was a gentleman after all, it was just strangely vexing. He was being kept a arm's length and he didn't really know why. She blew from hot to cold with no warning at all and he was struggling to keep pace with her changing moods.

The oddly ubiquitous dark skinned gentleman, short an eye like his father, who kept pestering Thor to join his little club wasn't helping his humour either.

Was he so poor at reading the reactions of this woman or could it be their earthly customs he had somehow backwards. He'd tried to uncover her problem, but she invariably brushed him off with 'it's just too soon', or worse still, 'female troubles'.

Thor enjoyed a challenge to be sure, but this particular riddle defied solving. He was even beginning to wonder if maybe it was something he'd done. He presented her with flowers as an apology, although quite what he was supposed to be sorry for Thor was sure he didn't know.

Upon his return Jane had invited him to stay with her and he had readily accepted the offer. Now he wondered at times if she regretted that decision, what with the way she acted when things became too heated. Thor wasn't entirely sure he didn't regret it.

Sharing with someone in close quarters and the resulting lack of privacy was potentially uncomfortable and while he wasn't above servicing himself when no alternative was available, he was terrified of being caught in an awkward situation.

He started most nights in her bed, holding Jane in his arms until her breathy little sighs or an unconscious shift in sleep that pushed her bottom into his groin became to much to bear. Not wishing his body to betray his lust for her, Thor'd extricate himself from their embrace and retreat to a lawn chair on the nearby rooftop. Hardly ideal when it was getting cold as summer neared its end.

Other means of relieving his frustrations weren't any better.

At times he'd picked up Mjolnir and go flying, eventually dunking himself in the icy ocean to the north west. The large body of water to the south east just wasn't quite cold enough to do the job properly. That couldn't go on. Asgardian metal, astonishingly, was as susceptible to the ravages of seawater as any other. The salt was starting to rust his armour.

There'd also been a noticeable increase recently in violent and unseasonably wet weather activity in New Mexico. Winds battered, rain pelted and lightning struck with abnormal frequency. Thor knew he was already responsible for one nearby outbuilding going up in flames, and if he wasn't careful the arid desert landscape would be washed away by flash floodwaters. The nice mortals didn't deserve that any more than he liked the idea of being found out.

He pondered the possible reasons for Jane's behaviour. Was something lacking in his technique that he hadn't managed to distract her sufficiently? No, it couldn't be that.

Perhaps she was nervous of their proportional size difference. She certainly didn't fake her pleasure at what she'd found when she put her hand down his trousers - even if she'd removed it rather more abruptly than he should like. And if ex Donald's clothes fit him as well as they did it was likely he was a big man as well. So maybe that wasn't the reason either.

He watched reruns of Oprah and flipped through her girly magazines, but they afforded him little further insight. He was no closer to understanding her. Surely earth girls weren't so very different to those he'd grown up with? Or was it just this one in particular?

Thor was no callow youth. His experience of women told him they were prone to being emotionally erratic - not that he should ever say such an inflammatory thing to one of them for fear of having his testicles handed to him, but it didn't make the fact any less true. They were creatures sensitive to things men just failed to understand and so he decided to be patient with Jane. It wasn't a natural trait to be sure, but it also wasn't without the realm of his possibilities. He could be patient. He would be patient.

oOo

They'd spent this particular morning making out on the lab couch - an altogether pleasant and simultaneously maddening experience - until Jane abruptly remembered she owed Erik her presence out in the field. Odd considering it was Sunday. She apologised, leaned down supporting herself with hands on his thighs (too high up to be comfortable) and planted a kiss on Thor's mouth before disappearing out the door.

The ghost of her warm body remained against him. His legs burned where her hands had briefly rested. His lips tingled cool where her moist ones had just left them. Within the fire raged. He sat rigidly, staring at the opposite wall and breathed deeply, trying in vain to damp down the flames inside him.

"Why so glum, ThunderCat?"

Thor blinked in surprise at the newly arrived Darcy standing in front of him. "I did not notice you enter."

"Too busy reciting the periodic table?" she smirked, noting his uncomfortable demeanour. She dumped her bag on the floor and slid into the still warm spot Jane had just vacated beside him.

"She's driving you nuts, isn't she," she squeezed his knee in sympathy. "Lucky for you, I happen to think you've suffered enough."

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I swore on pain of death I wouldn't say a word, but what the hey," she shrugged, "here goes anyway. Do you know what a tattoo is?"

"Of course," he nodded. "You have one indicating of your allegiance to me on your wrist."

Darcy glanced down at the small bolt of lightning inked into her skin and smiled wryly. She had to admire that stubborn self-important streak that still periodically forced its way to the surface.

"No offence Thor, but much as I like you, you're not the God this little mortal worships. Jane on the other hand-" Darcy let the sentence hang allowing him to fill in the blanks to his own satisfaction.

"I cannot understand her."

"Well, good friend that I am," she patted his leg, "I'm going to help you with that. Picture the scene. A few weeks ago, Friday night, two beautiful girls, too much alcohol. You know what you get when you mix all that together?"

He shook his head.

"Annoying self pity, drunken over-confidence, threats, hungover despair, and finally acceptance."

Thor stared blankly.

"The five stages of getting tattooed."

Thor frowned.

"Jane has one on her ass." His eyes widened. "Of Mjolnir."

He opened his mouth, then shut it again without a sound.

He'd noticed Jane staring at Mjolnir on more than one occasion, a strange, wistful look on her face. Even found her running her fingers over the curlicues on the hammer's ornamented surfaces when she'd thought she was alone. Now he knew why. That was not the weapon he wanted her handling.

Darcy filled in the details, and then promptly threatened to sell him at next month's local bachelor auction if he breathed a word of her betrayal of confidence to Jane. It was not as appealing a notion as it initially sounded. War against the Frost Giants seemed a pleasant prospect in comparison to facing down a hoard of screaming mortal women desperate to get their paws on him.

Jane has one on her ass. Thor wasn't quite sure how to feel about this new found piece of information. Was she embarrassed? Did she regret having it done? Of Mjolnir. Why else would she be acting as she had.

Unless she thought he would react negatively. Well he wouldn't. He was surprised, certainly, but mostly he was proud and a whole lot turned on at the thought of the likeness of his hammer on her skin, kept secret beneath her clothes where only a privileged few would witness it.

Jane has one. 

Of Mjolnir! 

Which only aggravated matters.

Thor wanted to be counted among those privileged few. He wanted to see it. Wanted to smooth his fingers across it, press his lips to it. He wanted his trousers to fit him once more. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

A short while later he went for another dip in the ocean.

oOo

Lying beside her on a lawn chair up on the roof later that evening, with Jane asleep on her side, he tried to sneak a peek . Her blanket was askew, pulled forward and snuggled into her chest and just the tip of the ink was visible on the sliver of skin between her top and her jeans. But any move to peel the trousers away to reveal more was thwarted when she stirred in her sleep. He snatched his hand back for fear of being caught but she simply sighed and repositioned herself.

He was a gentleman, he told himself, he wouldn't have done it even if she hadn't moved. It would have been an invasion of her privacy. Jane would tell him when she was ready. However long that took.

Thor rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes. He could see the imagined image burned into the inside of his lids. He opened them again, stared up at the dark heavens and began naming constellations.

If ignorance had been hard, somehow knowing made it worse.


	4. Interlink

Stop, Hammertime!

Darcy Lewis had her trousers pulled down to a dangerously low level and was dancing - if one could actually term *that* dancing - from side to side in the most peculiar fashion. Apparently singing for this particular number wasn't a requirement. One simply had to speak the words.

Thursday was karaoke night at the local bar and in somewhat questionable honour of the man for whom the day was named, Darcy had a decidedly Thor-themed singsong on the go. Who'd have guessed there could be so many thunder- and hammer-related songs.

"I YouTubed," shouted Darcy from the stage as if reading his thoughts before launching into the next tune in her seemingly endless repertoire.

Thor, unsure what her explanation meant, squirmed even more uncomfortably in his seat and returned his attention to his beer. Karaoke night was clearly nowhere near as much fun for the sober as it was for those who were rather less so. Which was just about everyone else in the place.

Even Agent Coulson had loosened his standard issue tie enough to set free his inner Manilow.

Darcy appeared suddenly next to him, signalling the bartender for a refill. "I'm thinking 'Friday I'm in Love' next. You know, just to be perverse. Shake the whole thing up a little." She gulped down several large mouthfuls of her drink. "Hey Thor, was your brother peeved to be the only one in the family not to have us nice mortals name a day after him?" She didn't wait for a reply.

Another! came the call from the audience. Ever helpful, Darcy obliged.

They were out celebrating a scientific success none but Jane fully understood. But it hardly mattered when there was the excuse for festivities to be had.

While Thor loved a good party as much as anyone, he didn't know any of the songs and as those around him drank themselves progressively jollier and less inhibited on alcohol that had no effect on him, he was starting to feel excluded.

He shovelled another handful of pretzels into his mouth before remembering he didn't particularly like them.

A whoop erupted from the crowd as the music ended.

The rather unsteady Darcy, flushed with success from her latest turn on the stage, was back and hanging around his shoulders, baying loudly in his ear for Thor to have a go at something called 'I touch myself'. If he knew how it went he'd have given it a bash.

Jane's cheeks were pink as well, but he suspected more from continuing embarrassment than anything else. Jane Foster had many talents but she could not count singing among them. After fortifying her nerves with several drinks aptly named 'Thor's hammer' - it wasn't to his personal taste, but at least it looked attractive in the glass with its fruity garnish - she'd taken (or rather more accurately *been* taken) to the stage.

The result was abysmal.

And yet everyone present enjoyed it immensely, cheering her on and joining in the rhythmic chant of thunder at regular intervals. The accompanying air guitar and strange hopping across the stage on one leg by Darcy meant nothing to Thor. And left him feeling oddly and perhaps uncharacteristically embarrassed on behalf of those taking part.

You've been Thunderstruck. Dear Allfather, had he ever!

She sounded as if she were strangling a cat. Was the original of this song as dreadful? Surely not, for if Jane's rendition were faithful the poor minstrels must be starving in the hedgerows.

Love and shame had duelled for supremacy within him. The former won out and an indulgent smile spread itself across Thor's face. What did it matter if she couldn't sing to save her life. Or anyone else's. It was by now apparent that the worse you performed this karaoke, the better everyone seemed to like it.

"I don't feel so good," moaned Jane to his left. "Can we go home?" Thor was out of his stool in an instant.

"You're gonna have to hold her hair while she barfs," remarked Darcy matter-of-factly as they turned to leave. Charming.

He made their excuses under the guise of putting poor Jane's strained vocal cords to bed, and left the drunken revelry behind. The cool night air seemed to help with her malaise and she perked up slightly as they made their slow way up the main street in the direction of her trailer.

She was casting not so surreptitious glances up at him as they walked. Her palm felt sweaty in his hand. She'd been nervous all night, Thor could tell from how jumpy she'd been, and it wasn't at the thought of singing - if one could call it that - in front of people. The alcohol she'd consumed didn't seem to have taken the edge off either.

Could tonight be the night?

He wished she'd just hurry up and confess, regardless of whether it resulted in their getting naked together. He was tired of feigning ignorance. In fact if she didn't come clean soon, Thor was going to do it for her. He'd given his word to Darcy that he wouldn't say anything, but he'd take his chances against her, preferably with a head start and a tailwind, if he had to.

Besides, Jane wouldn't automatically tell her friend he'd snitched on her, would she? She'd just be grateful the secret was out and she didn't have to waste more money feeding the local wildlife cans of Paw Lickin' Chicken.

His stomach flip-flopped at the thought of what no more secrets between them might mean.

"Whoopsie!" laughed Jane as she caught the toe of her shoe on the uneven ground and stumbled forward. Thor shot out an arm to steady her.

"I've had too much to drink." She had the good grace to look sheepish.

He smiled genially down at her. "I noticed."

"You gonna me carry home in a fireman's hold like you did Erik?"

"If you require it." Or desire it, he added mentally.

"I think I can manage." The silver trailer was in sight now and no more than a fifteen yards away.

They stopped at the door as Jane rifled fruitlessly through her purse for her keys.

"They're in your hand," Thor pointed out gently.

"Oh!" She look abashed. "You know I swore blind I'd never drink too much again after what happened the last time and yet here we are."

"What happened last time?" he prodded hopefully. Was this it? The Moment? Or would her nerve fail her?

"I had a reeeeally sore head the next day," she giggled, managing to slot the key in the lock and open the door. Not the moment.

She stepped up into the trailer, then turned to face him, taller than Thor from this vantage point. She leaned out towards him, hands hanging onto each side of the door frame until she was just inches from his face and whispered too loudly, "D'you know what else?" Her eyes were strangely bright, almost feverish.

Now? "Tell me," he whispered back.

"I don't have a cat." She drew back to the safety of the trailer.

Not now.

"I had my suspicions. At least the coyotes haven't gone hungry." He paused a beat before adding, "Was there anything else?" He was giving Jane an opening. He hoped she'd take it.

"No."

Damn.

"Yes."

He held his breath and waited.

"I have a tattoo." She blurted it out before she had a chance to stop herself. "Of Mjolnir." She looked almost astonished, as if she hadn't expected that particular confession to leave her lips and not knowing what else to do, Jane retreated inside and shut the door abruptly in his face.

Thor could hear a soft scraping sound followed by a dull thud as she slid to the floor in a heap.

He knocked gently.

She groaned. He was still out there.

"It's all right, Jane." Thor's voice was muffled by the wall between them. "I know."

She scrambled to her feet and jerked the door open, her mouth an 'o' of surprise. "How?"

Oh dear. "Darcy told me."

"She-?" After all that ridiculous worrying, and he already knew? She didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment. She narrowed her eyes at him. "When?"

"Sunday."

Sunday. She did the arithmetic as quickly as her brain would allow. "That was four days ago." Thor nodded.

Four long tortuous days and he never said anything? Had it been making him crazy knowing it was there and not being able to see it? Or didn't he really care? Did he have any idea how much money she'd wasted on cat food in the last month?

"I've been driving myself mad with this," and me as well, Thor agreed silently, "worrying 'bout what you would say! I tried to work up the nerve to tell you a thousand times but then I'd lose it when crunch time came. And the longer I left it the harder it became."

The harder 'it' became indeed. "You thought I might, what is the phrase, 'freak out'?" She smiled at him weakly and inclined her head in a self-conscious nod. "I didn't."

"You didn't." She breathed deeply and in a small voice asked, "Would you like to see it?"

Thor swallowed thickly. Oh yeah, crazy, Jane realised with delight.

"Only if you would like to show it to me." What a liar he was!

He extended a hand to her and she climbed back down to the ground.

Jane held his gaze for a long uncertain moment before unbuttoning her jeans and sliding the zipper slowly down. His face was tense, eyes unblinking and fixed on her body as she peeled back the offensive bit of clothing.

There it was. Mjolnir. Unveiled in moonlight and better even than he had imagined it.

Thor crouched down beside her to study the design more closely. It was an exact miniature copy of the real thing. And quite the most delightful thing he'd laid eyes on in a long time, second only to the person whose skin bore it.

He ran his thumb pad over it, his other hand resting warm on the curve of her hip. Jane held her breath. Her skin tingled under the gentle caress. When he leaned in and pressed his lips to it, her insides melted and slid down to her toes.

Her heart was jumping madly in her chest. Her pulse thumped everywhere. She could feel it throbbing in her neck, in her chest, god - between her thighs. If he got much closer he'd probably be able to smell her want.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, straightening up again.

"You really think so?" She needn't have asked. It was evidenced by the look on his face and the bulge in his jeans that hadn't been there a minute ago.

Before Thor could answer she launched herself at him, leapt into his arms and locked her ankles behind his back, mouth crashing into his. Her hot body flush against him caused his to roar into life.

"You should have got me drunk sooner!" she gasped.

Thor wanted to say that he hadn't gotten her drunk at all, but what did it matter when rewards like this were to be had? She was kissing him again, and with a ferocity that literally took his breath away.

"Take me to bed," she ordered as they broke apart, panting for air. "Right now!"

She dragged him inside, kicked the door shut behind them and leapt on him again. Every fibre of Thor's being thundered its approval. It seemed that she was every bit as frustrated as he and it took all the resolve he possessed to answer. "I will put you to bed, Jane."

"But what, no funny business?" She pouted as he lay her down and untangled her arms from around his neck.

Thor shook his head. "Not tonight." Not in your condition.

"Will you at least stay?"

Even if it kills me. "Only if you promise not to take advantage of me in my weakened state," he teased.

He removed his boots and coat and climbed up beside her, drawing her closer. Jane hooked a leg between his and stretched her arm across his chest. Ink Mjolnir fitted beneath his palm where it rested on her hip. The real version hummed gently in the corner.

"Thor?"

"Hmmm."

"Did I make my ancestors proud tonight?" she asked.

"You sang with gusto and enthusiasm, Jane. It was quite a spectacle to witness," he answered softly. Her forebears were likely spinning in their graves at the performance she'd delivered. It had truly been dismal. And it made him want her even more.

He could wait one more night.

She looked up at him with drowsy eyes and smiled. "You have pretty hair."

"Good night, Jane." He kissed the top of her head and she nuzzled into his chest before settling her head comfortably on his shoulder.

Her last thought as she drifted off was that she would sneak away before he woke for aspirin and toothpaste. Hangovers and morning breath were no more romantic than drooling on your boyfriend's t-shirt while you slept. Jane consciously clamped her mouth shut and hoped it would stay that way.

Tomorrow.

Aspirin and toothpaste and sex.

Oh, and condoms! Very important. Where'd she hidden that box again?

Before her mind could find the answer a soft snore had ushered her into oblivion.

Thor closed his eyes and listened to her deep, steady breathing as he waited for sleep. It was a very long time in coming.

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little nod to Mr Hiddleston whose 'go to' karaoke song according to a recent interview I saw is The Cure's 'Friday I'm in Love'. How awesome when you can fit something into a story like that. :D
> 
> For those of you who don't know, Jane was singing AC/DC's 'Thunderstruck' and Darcy's chapter opener was MC Hammer's 'Can't touch this'.


End file.
